


He’d never again be Todd Anderson

by Julie_Anne



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Neil is still dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 12:03:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17745569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julie_Anne/pseuds/Julie_Anne
Summary: Day 2Prompts - purple/love letterSome people cannot just cry for some time and then move over. Todd mourns in the only way he's capable of.





	He’d never again be Todd Anderson

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking a huge risk.  
> I have never written in this fandom, but I've always wanted to.  
> I just hope no one hates it very much...

Todd had returned from Spring break sporting a black eye and a deep purple bruise on his right cheek. Pitts had made his comic googly eyes at it, Meeks’ clever bright eyes, behind his glasses, had been full of understanding, but no one was going to ask. They all knew Todd was not very talkative even on a good day. And they all had noticed how after Neil’s death and that horrible mess with Mr. Keating he had turned even more reserved and restrained. So, they had let him be. It had to be Knox, clumsy as he would always be, to spoil all that well-meaning restraint.

\- What happened to you? – he had asked over the dinner table, impervious to eloquent looks and nods from the others.

Todd had looked at him. Had it been any other guy and he’d have jumped at his throat with bare teeth and claws, that was how ferocious he had felt, but you couldn’t actually get mad at Knox, his clumsiness was genuine and well-intentioned.

\- I fell and banged my face against something… - he had answered darkly.

Knox had decoded the general message - « _I don’t want to talk about it here. Later._ » - and had asked nothing more. They were roommates now and he was familiar with Todd’s moods. Since Charlie had been expelled and Neil had left them – Todd refused to say that Neil had died, and no one dared to say it when he was around – they had been put together. It had proven to be a good decision in the end. If it was true that sometimes Todd wouldn’t say a word beyond « _Good morning_ » and « _Good night_ » for a whole week or more, it was equally true that he’d listen attentively to Knox’s long monologues about Chris, how much he loved her and how they were going to be married as soon as he passed his bar exams. On the other hand, if Todd needed to talk, and sometimes he desperately did, Knox was ready to listen and wouldn’t say a word of it to anyone, he was that dependable!

That night, as they lay in their beds in the dark, waiting to fall asleep, Todd finally told the whole story.

\- It’s true I banged my face against something, only that something was my brother’s fist.

\- Your brother beat you up!?

\- He spent the whole break nagging me about how stupid I am, and how could I even hesitate before signing that disgusting confession. During Christmas, I could feel they were dying to pick on me, but I guess they thought it might be too much too soon. Only, by now they kind of concluded I had gone over it, so when he found out I have kept Mr. Keating’s poetry book he said he was going to tell Father and see that he had the book burned…

\- But why? It’s just a book…

\- Never mind why. He's a heartless piece of shit! When he said that, I swear I saw red! I just rolled my fists tight and delivered the strongest couple of punches I managed to.

\- Good for you, Todd! He had it coming…!

Todd smiled sadly in the dark.

\- Well, I wasn’t as strong as I believed. He was almost knocked out, but not quite, so he punched me back. Father was livid, Mother cried, complaining of how ungrateful I am and why can’t I be as perfect as my brother…  and I was grounded for the rest of the break. All I can tell you is I thank God for that! I couldn’t stomach their faces any longer…!

There was no answer, and from the regular and deep breaths he could hear, Todd could guess that Knox had fallen asleep. Better that way… he’d never know Todd was hiding something. Knox wasn’t stupid and being madly in love himself he might recognise the signs. Close friends as they were, Todd had never really disclosed that much to him.

As it was, he didn’t have to make the extra effort to hide that he had spent all the time he had been grounded and confined to his room, writing passionate, chaotic letters to Neil, as he had been doing regularly ever since… well, since it had happened. He lay awake in the dark, unable to sleep, eyes closed, re-reading in his mind the paragraphs he’d written time and time again.

_Neil,_

_I never got round to call you anything but Neil, so I cannot begin this letter any other way. We never got to have special names for each other, I never called you all the beautiful words your simple presence brought to my mind. I am shy and colourless and sombre, and you were a bright light, a star, a dazzling comet, and I cannot wrap my head around the idea that I’ll never see you again. All I really want to do is cry until I’m out of tears, but that won’t bring you back._

He never got past the first paragraph, it was too painful. He’d stop for a few hours, and then try again. He had pages and pages of these fragments, not-quite-letters that filled almost half a thick notebook he carried everywhere with him. Letters he could never send and didn’t sign. He had vowed never to sign his name again, after having been forced to sign that accusation against Mr. Keating. The memory of his name on that page made him sick. Even his school work, he didn’t really sign it: he just wrote his name in neat print capitals.

He had it all figured out, his entire life from that terrible day on. He would study hard, have straight As, finish as close to first as he could, and then go to college – away from his parents and his brother, free at last! English, Literature, Creative Writing. There was a poet in him, Mr. Keating had said so. He was going to be a writer and tell Neil’s story in every book he would write. Neil would be a swallow, a swan, a ship, a brave soldier, a talented painter, a mighty tree… He would choose a new name, a writer could do it, he would give Neil a new life, a thousand new lives, they would always be together, and he’d never again be Todd Anderson.


End file.
